Posts Tagged ‘Beach’
Jan
Burt And Argos
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The news sent everyone into a panic. Years of cable sensationalism had afflicted society with a horrible sense that by paying attention to world events, they could actually make an impact. With that illusion shattered, the reality would take time to settle over them. Time that was no longer available.
Burt had stopped watching the news years ago. He’d accepted his futility and was the happier for it. Better to spend that time with Argos, his rescue.
So while most people rioted, Burt and Argos sat on the beach watching the sunset together, waiting for the end of the world.
Nov
Escape
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Jake and Emily look at each other dreadfully as they realize their apartment is on fire. Jake yells to Emily, “Grab Sarah out of her bed and I’ll get May out of her bedroom!” The fire is spreading quickly around the house so they have to think of a plan to get out. They end up thinking of a plan to get out. They use a crowbar to break the window. It shatters in the dead of night as pieces of glass go all over. Eventually, they reach a beach in Tampa Bay, Florida. Everyone is alive, safe, and happy.
From Guest Contributor Mikayla Wikoff
Feb
My Setting Sun
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
We sit on the beach watching a summer sunset, foamy saltwater encroaching upon our bare toes. Distant mountains cut jagged lines in the sky. We’re laughing, your warm arm around my shoulders. I glow in your rare happiness, believing you’ll stay with me always.
I sense you withdrawing as the sun sinks behind the mountains, air chilling as the golden orb dwindles. Just before it disappears, my soul cries: don’t fade away, don’t leave.
The sun pauses, a yolk balancing on the highest peak.
The moment breaks. Your arm falls from my shoulders.
My soul aches as the sun vanishes.
From Guest Contributor Katla Watersin
Nov
Scars
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I weave between trees, around my bike and up the stairs. The screen door slams in my wake. Through the kitchen, I run for my room. Behind me, my brother stretches out his Gumby-hand. He’s within inches of touching my skin. Inside, a tick is dying to suck my blood.
Years later, I’ll run on the beach. You’ll chase me with something in your hand. Perhaps a periwinkle plucked from a nearby dune. You’ll hand it to me and smile. Say you love me. I’ll take it, hold the flower to my nose, and wonder what it wants from me.
From Guest Contributor Sally Simon
Sally (ze/hir) lives in NY. When not writing, ze travels and stabs people with hir epee. Read more at www.sallysimonwriter.com.
Dec
In Pursuit Of Tomorrow
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
A young boy shaped sand sculptures. His parents combed the beach with a metal detector. When clouds rolled in, mother rose, balancing on the only leg spared in a shark attack.
Over driftwood, shells and rocks they trampled to reach the trail that would lead them to a road.
Father turned for one last glance of the abandoned tanker anchored by the coast. He had heard of buried treasures from at least a dozen ships in those turbulent waters.
As he imagined newly acquired wealth for his family, the sea tossed out a bottle. Nestled inside was a folded note.
From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs
Krystyna writes poetry, fiction and creative nonfiction. She resides in Alberta, Canada.
Mar
Sea Angel
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Silvia, sound asleep, pleasantly dreamed of the beach, her solace.
She relished the sound of the ocean splashing against the dock, and the warm breeze against her face, when a beautiful image ascended from the water. A lovely sea angel flapped its white wings, and a halo gleamed above her head. The glowing angel approached Silvia and told her she would be her protector, then placed her translucent hand on Silvia’s forehead.
Silvia awakened calmed and ready to start her day. She showered, dressed, and left for work.
When she returned that evening, a glimmering halo lay on her pillow.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Oct
Queue For Killing Time
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Mow lawn with toenail clipper; count sand. Invite spiders to tea party; pretend you’re the Mad Hatter.
Adopt imaginary twins; cry when they say their first word (“quarantine”); ransack new recipes to quiet their insatiable hunger; crank open doors and windows; demonstrate how to run fingers over wild, overgrown grass; bike them to beach; build castles, mermaids, moats; inhale salty ocean air; watch fire-red sun sink into horizon.
Lift face to pale moon and marvel, “Isn’t it crazy that there are more stars in the sky than all the grains of sand on earth?”
Time killed, savor moment without end.
From Guest Contributor Michelle Wilson
Michelle’s words have appeared in 50-Word Stories, 101 Words, Literally Stories, The Miami Herald, and elsewhere. She lives in Miami Beach, Florida.
Apr
Searching
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Robyn rolls down the car window and breaths in the fresh air. It is warm, but not enough to sit on the beach and take in the sun, or swim in the water.
Robyn notices a lone woman standing on the dock. Her back is turned, and head erect. The wind blows her black hair above the shoulders and seagulls soar in search of prey, while the waves ripple.
After Robyn finishes her coffee, she puts the car in gear and slowly backs up. She hears deafening screams and jams on the brake.
The woman on the dock is gone.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Mar
There’s Something The Matter With The Sea
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
We all got off the coach and headed for the beach. The couple who’d sat across from us stripped to reveal their swimsuits, like a superhero duo. I told Dad on the sand, but he seemed distracted, staring into the horizon.
‘I think there’s something the matter with the sea,’ he said.
Mum told him to cut it out. He nodded, patted me on the shoulder and turned back towards her.
The water was warm, like a bath. That was our second clue. ‘Don’t worry,’ the news anchor had said at breakfast. ‘Hurricane Katrina isn’t expected to cause much damage.’
From Guest Contributor Robert Keal
Feb
Parasitic Sea
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
A stillness descends on the empty beach. The children are asleep in cottages. How many of you stepped on shells and hurt yourselves? How many of you were stung by jellyfish?
A small light shines far away over the dark sea. It rushes faster than the waves, dashes across the beach, and dives deep into the scratched feet of the dreaming children. And it divides, multiplies, and devours.
The next morning, the children wake and run toward the sea. They leap into the waves and swim away.
It’s time to go home. Are your parents going to miss you, kids?
From Guest Contributor Natsumi Tanaka
Translated from Japanese by Toshiya Kamei
Natsumi Tanaka is a writer living in Kyoto, Japan. Her short stories have appeared in journals such as Anima Solaris, Kotori no kyuden, and Tanpen. She is the author of the short story collection Yumemiru ningyo no okoku (2017). Translations of her short fiction have appeared in Fanzine, Star 82 Review, and The William & Mary Review, among others.